


an escape from reality; a way of understanding it

by magnetocent



Category: DCU (Comics), Green Lantern (Comics), The Flash (Comics)
Genre: Black Mercy, Domestic, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Psychic Manipulation, Thanksgiving, also oliver loves his friend so much, do not copy to another site, fuckin sad ok??, he needs a hug, liberal use of canon, poor Harold, post-parallax
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 14:22:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17245766
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnetocent/pseuds/magnetocent
Summary: Hal is captured by a Black Mercy when the League is fighting Mogul.story follows the League trying to free him, and his fantasy, and the aftermath.





	an escape from reality; a way of understanding it

**Author's Note:**

> so this is an emotional gut punch?? maybe?? also, every character is a canon character is some capacity (including unborn arthur jordan, look it up i was surprised at the size of the Jordan clan myself). and i tried to balance 'reality' with what hal would see as perfect, because i thought it would be a better thing for the mercy to do to keep the victim less likely to escape?? as well, i also sorta used that episode of JLA, For The Man Who Has Everything, for the big three's experience with the mercy, but u don't need to have watched it (tho u should it's good). Anyway, hope y'all like it!

_These curtains suck_ , is the first thing Hal thinks when he wakes up. They barely block any light, and he can never sleep past nine in the morning. But Barry likes the bright openness of the bedroom, so Hal tolerates it, because he loves him.  

And he loves the way the sun beams stretch across his exposed skin where his bed shirt rides up, catching on the trail of hair above the waistline of his pants. Hal reaches over and pushes the shirt up more, revelling in the perpetual warmth of the body beside him. There’s a sleepy sigh when he strokes up and down abs and over hips that turns into a low chuckle when he tries to tug down those pants.  

“Morning,” he murmurs, giving up and instead dipping his hand in to rest just by Barry’s morning wood. Hips press up, he knows more in a stretch than anything else, and Barry rumbles his reply. 

“G’morn’.” 

He turns and pulls at Hal, who moves easily into his chest, resting his head above a racing heartbeat, smiling from ear to ear. He pulls at Barry’s clothing again, this time trying to undo the buttons one-handed, only succeeding with two before Barry speaks again. 

“What’re you doin’?” he mumbles, still half asleep.  

Hal grins, “Nothing,” 

He manages to undo another two, fingers brushing skin, and hears another laugh rumble out of the chest underneath him. Another four more, and he moves his head to finish, spreading the lapels and placing gentle kisses over the newly exposed, newly tanned skin.  

“Living on the Coast has done you some good, babe.” He breathes over the lines of Barry’s abs. There are hands in his hair, and another content sigh as he’s pulled up into a disgusting smelling kiss. 

“Ugh,” Barry agrees as they part, “You smell awful.” 

“You’re not so fresh yourself, sunshine.” Hal retorts, lips still turned up. He presses another kiss against Barry’s jaw, trails more under his chin and over his neck, and Barry lets him, at least for a little bit, until he’s sitting up, moving Hal’s tense and aroused body off of him.  

Hal doesn’t let him get far before he’s wrapping his arms around the other man’s waist and trying to guide him back into the sheets. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growls low into Barry’s ear. He smiles as he feels the shiver it produces, but apparently that’s not enough. Barry vibrates, phasing through Hal’s hands to stand from the bed, “No fair.” 

“You’re just a sore loser,” Barry replies, placing a kiss to Hal’s hair, “We gotta get up. I have to put those pies together, and you need to get down to the store for your beer before we go. Lightning needs to be walked. The Ayries need to play.” 

“Alright, alright!” Hal says, lifting his hands in surrender, “Just let me have a coffee first.” 

He looks up in time to see that sweet smile before his boyfriend is off in a blur of sparks. He follows shortly after brushing his teeth, and is greeted in the kitchen by an overly excited golden lab, a mug of sickly-sweet coffee, and a kiss on the cheek from a metahuman and a gaggle of plant aliens.   

Once he’s able to dodge tails and feet and little petal-like tentacles, he starts on breakfast. Barry gets together the apples and pumpkin to start on his pies, cutting them up and placing the gourds in the oven in the blink of an eye. The kitchen is far too small for this many beings, and this much cooking, but Hal wouldn’t have it any other way. 

 

\-- 

 

“What the hell is that thing?” Oliver shouts as he shoots off another arrow, while Barry and Dinah lift Hal’s limp body off the ground.  

“It looks like it has  _claws_ ,” Dinah yells as she helps get Hal into Barry’s arms, “We need to get him somewhere safe!” 

Barry looks around, watches as Superman and Wonder Woman lay hard hits to Mogul. Sees the fried and crushed  _creatures_ , like the one attached to Hal’s chest, littering the ground as Batman throws small explosives to destroy more. There’s an emptied office building nearby, that he directs Dinah to before he takes off toward it.  

When he gets inside, he rushes to the nearest desk, pushing the stray office supplies off as he lies Hal’s prone form onto it. He checks Hal’s pulse, his breathing, and tries to figure out what’s happening to his best friend as he waits for the others to show up. He sees the ‘claws’ Dinah mentioned, the ones digging into the flesh underneath. The creature is pulsing, tentacles that aren’t clinging to body parts wriggle almost happily. He grabs onto one, but the sharp thorns poke hard through his skin. He hisses, and the door opens behind him. Oliver hurries in with Dinah in tow. 

“Big three are finishing the job.” Oliver says, hooking his bow onto his quiver, “You get anywhere with that thing yet?” 

Barry shakes his head, “No. I grabbed one of the vines but it’s defensive. Cut me up pretty bad.” 

“It’s hurting him,” Dinah adds, stating more than questioning, and Barry nods in confirmation. They stand around their friend, each trying to figure out how to help him. After a moment, Ollie pulls out an arrow. He pushes Barry aside and finagles the fletching into the small space between the creature and Hal’s chest. Once he has it in far enough, he pushes down on the arrow, attempting to pry the thing off. After a couple moments, the arrow snaps. He holds up the head of it before he flings it across the room. 

“Alright,” he says, and heads toward another desk. Barry and Dinah watch as he kicks the front panel a few times before it splinters and breaks. He grabs a large piece of the softwood, then comes back and shoves it under the creature. This time Barry helps him as he tries to lift it from their friend. Dinah stands to the side, holding Hal down when his entire body moves with their pulling. Ollie groans when he realizes they aren’t getting anywhere. 

“C’mon you little bitch, let go!” he grits out, but then the wood splinters like the arrow and snaps.  

“Fuck!” Oliver shouts and kicks at the desk. Dinah sighs angrily, brushing her disheveled hair out of her face.  

“What _is_  this thing!” she asks, frustrated, reaching out to brush a hand over Oliver’s arm as the man paces in frustration. Barry ignores them both, moving to stand near Hal’s head. He places a hand on the man’s forehead, checking for any more signs of physical distress. After a moment, Hal’s mouth parts, and Barry startles.  

“Hal?” he says, leaning over him. At the sound of their friend’s name, Dinah and Oliver rush over, “His mouth opened.” 

They all stare at him, waiting for anything else to happen, when he speaks, “Be righ’ back.” 

There’s a shared look between them, and Hal speaks again, “Dn’t eat too much. Lose y’r appet’te.” 

Then he chuckles and goes silent. They wait a few more moments for any other sign of consciousness, breathing a collective, frustrated sigh and heading back to the drawing board when nothing else comes. 

 

\-- 

 

“They’ll understand!” Hal says, shifting the 12-case in his hands, “It’s not the first time we’ve been late.” 

Barry blows air through his nose heavily, “I know, I just feel bad. I know how much the kids look forward to seeing you, and we end up taking an extra hour to get here.” 

They make their way up the front porch, Hal stopping them before they head inside. He sets the 12-case down and turns Barry towards him, pulling him as close as he can while the other man is still holding the pies. 

“It’s fine, babe. They understand.” He says, holding Barry’s gaze, “Hell, they probably caught the whole thing on the news. You know my dad and the kids love that stuff.” 

Barry hesitantly agrees, but mutters a comment about Hal’s poor mother. Hal only chuckles, and places a small kiss to his cheek, then opens the door. Ushering Barry in, he grabs the case of beer again and follows. The smell of stuffing and turkey hits him immediately, sounds of the Superbowl pre-show, and his mother laughing fill the air. And not a second later, Howie runs across the hall and spots him, eyes widening and lips spreading in glee. 

“Uncle Hal and Barry are here!” he shouts, and drops the toy blaster he’s holding. He runs up to Hal, who barely has time to put down the beer again before he has an armful of small child.  

“Hey, buddy!” he greets the boy, lifting him into a hug. Howie laughs, wrapping himself around him. 

“We saw you on TV!”  

Hal meets Barry’s eyes as the other man makes his way into the kitchen, raising an eyebrow to say ‘I-told-you-so' before setting his nephew back down on the floor, “Did you? What’d you think?” 

Howie pumps his arms into the air in excitement, “It was awesome! You kicked butt!” 

He then turns and runs to pick up his toy off the floor, swinging it around and making noises with his mouth before he stops and turns back to Hal, “But where was Ollie?” 

Hal takes the beer again, making his way to the kitchen himself and gesturing for Howie to follow, “Ollie has his own family to be with, and his own city to protect. He can’t always be with us, buddy.” 

He gives his mother a kiss on the cheek when he passes her and ruffles Jim’s hair. Barry’s at the other end of the counter, trying to make space for the three pies amongst the other food. Little Jane stands next to him, waiting patiently with her blanket for him to pick her up. She reaches her arms up as soon as he turns to her, and wraps them snugly around his neck when she’s settled on his hip. Hal feels a warmth settle in his stomach at the sight, feels an involuntary smile tug at his lips that he hides in the fridge when he puts the beer away.  

“I like Ollie,” Howie says, almost to himself, when Hal returns his attention to him, “He’s funny.” 

“You should have seen him the other day,” Barry interjects, steadily rocking the child in his arms, “When he hit his funny bone trying to shoot his bow. It went flying!” 

Howie laughs, too loud and long for a story so short and vague. It gets him going with his blaster again, and he runs off to the living room, where they hear a shout from Jason not a moment later. Barry makes his way to join Hal’s mother, brother, and Jan at the counter, sitting in the free bar stool skillfully, with the child still in his arms, and asks Jim about work. Hal’s about to make his way to the living room himself, but he’s stopped by his mother first.  

“Give me a hug,” she demands, pulling him in before he can even respond, “You scared me. Are you alright?” 

Hal gently pushes her back, “I’m fine.” 

“You were thrown through a window, Harold!”  

Hal groans, “Mom, we’ve been over this, the ring protects me. It keeps me from getting hurt – too hurt anyway.” 

“I help with the rest,” Barry pipes up from behind them. Jim jumps in and makes a comment about how Hal’s concussions have been less frequent since they started dating, and the two and Jan all laugh. Hal flips them the bird, and reassures his mom once more that he’s okay, and promises she can look him over herself if she wants later.  

“But I’m not missing the start of the game,” he finishes, and heads into the living room. Howie and Jason are jumping around the room, running back and forth playing their shooting game, while Sue, Jack, and his father sit comfortably in their respective seats. Jason runs past him as he makes his way to the couch, giving him a quick hug and hello before running off again. Helen sits in the middle of the couch, colouring in her book, and talking with Sue. 

“There's my boy,” his father says when he sees him, getting up to give him a hug, “Nice left hook. Where’d you learn that?” 

They sit, and Hal grins, “Mom.” 

His father laughs, a low grumbling sound, “I’d believe it.” 

They watch the pre-show, only a few minutes left before the game actually begins. Helen tells Sue about the new paints she got a few days prior, and when Hal asks what she’s drawing, she tells him it’s a surprise for after dinner. His father wonders aloud what it might be, cats or a unicorn. And it reminds Hal to ask if she had any luck with getting a kitten from her parents. Her face lights up. 

“Maybe!” she says, her grin big and missing a tooth. Hal raises an eyebrow at Jack, who shrugs. 

“She’s been very responsible lately. Cleans up all of her toys.” He says, hint of pride seeping through, “Even gets both herself and Jason ready for bed every night all on her own.” 

“Wow, kiddo!” Hal praises, to her delight. She returns to colouring, this time not bothering to hide the page from him until he tries to sneak a peek.  

An announcement from the screen signals the start of the game, and the adults all turn their attention to it. Martin returns his chair from it’s lounging position to sit up, and the boys both lean forward in their seats. Sue gets out her tablet and starts tapping away at it, taking notes about the game for an article.  

They shout and groan and cheer along with every blitz, pass, and tackle. The Sharks have the advantage over the Metros in the first quarter. The commercials are stupid but his father can’t stop laughing at them even so. Hal and Sue poke fun at him for not knowing what memes are being referenced.  

In the first few minutes of the second quarter, there’s a loud cry from the kitchen from Jane, before Jim walks through with her crying to take her upstairs. Barry follows a minute later, a bit flustered but smiling.  

“Nap time,” he explains, when Hal glances up at him. The other man takes the last bit of space left on the couch, nestling between Hal and the arm of it. Hal wraps his arm around him, and catches a smile playing at the corner of his father’s lips. 

“She loves her Uncle Barry,” Martin comments. It sends Hal’s heart racing, and a light flush colours Barry’s cheek as he smiles into his drink. 

 

\-- 

 

Barry sits with Hal as they wait for the rest of the League to arrive. The ten minutes Batman said it would take for them to get there stretch on for him, while he stays, watching Hal’s worryingly still face. Every once in a while, he’ll speak a word or sentence, vague but strangely content. Barry wonders at the amount of times he hears the word ‘dad’ and ‘babe’ escape the other man.  

But while Hal sounds content, sounds like he’s fine, just stuck in this alien made coma, he looks terrible. His body is covered in a sheen of sweat, and his skin is pale. Barry can’t tell in the dim light, but his eyes and cheeks look more and more sunken in as time goes on. He touches at the man’s face, brushes away sweaty hair, and frowns. Behind him he hears Dinah speaking quietly to Oliver.  

The archer isn’t taking this well. He’s angry, lashing out with his fists and feet and loud, harsh words. There were a couple more attempts from him to get the creature off their friend before Barry and Dinah had to pull him away, to keep him from accidentally hurting Hal as his attempts became more and more volatile. Dinah has since been able to get him to sit down, calming him with gentle hands, but she’s worried too. Barry doesn’t bother with him, knowing as soon as he would try, he too would lash out, causing a yelling fight between the two of them that would last until Dinah gets sick of it and dresses them down for being children, telling them rightfully that fighting each other doesn’t solve the problem. Like she always has to with the three of them.  

It’s not fair to her. They’re all scared, and she doesn’t need more trouble than Oliver’s aggressive reactions to his own feelings that Barry understands all too well. A small, mumbling, barely coherent sentence tumbles from Hal’s lips again. Barry shushes him without thinking, and brushes his hair back once more. 

Only a few minutes later Diana bursts through the door, followed closely by Bruce, who is quick to study Hal’s current state when he nears. Barry doesn’t need to hear how bad it is, he can already see, and the horrified gasp Diana lets out is only confirmation.  

“Great Hera,” she breathes, “Not again.” 

Oliver turns away from Dinah, stepping toward Diana, hope apparent in his voice, “Again? You know what’s going on?” 

From his spot over Hal, Bruce punches something into his wrist computer and answers, “This isn’t the first time we’ve dealt with Mogul or the Black Mercy.” 

“Black Mercy?” Dinah repeats, taking Oliver’s side. 

“Yes,” Bruce replies, “It’s an alien plant species that feeds off of its victims' psychic energy, keeping them paralyzed in a dream manifested by their own perception of what would be their perfect life.” 

The three friends exchange a glance, before Barry asks, “How do you know this? How do you know what it’s—doing to him?” 

Diana glances over at Bruce, who doesn’t look up from his wrist, almost as if she wants permission before speaking. She opens her mouth afterward, but is interrupted by the man himself before she can utter a word. 

“Superman and I were both attacked by it in our previous encounter with Mogul,” he explains, coldly and seemingly without care, as he continues to plug information into his computer, “Superman was under it’s influence much longer than I was, but I still was able to get a good idea of its capabilities. And confirmed my conclusions during the debriefing afterward. If we don’t remove it, he’ll die.” 

It’s silent after he speaks, the words sinking in and the implications become clear. What Clark had dreamt of, and Bruce. The small utterances of ‘dad’ and ‘pop’ that floated so easily from Hal’s lips, and what that meant. What it could mean for them as they continue to attempt to free him, and what it could mean if they finally are able to do so. Barry lets his eyes drop back to the man on the desk, his pale and limp body, and the creature sucking the life from it. 

“How do we free him?” he finally asks.  

Diana rests a hand over Hal’s hair softly, “He needs to realize the world he is in is not real. Only then will the Black Mercy be weakened, and we will be able to remove it.” 

There’s a heavy breath let out behind Barry, before Oliver speaks, “Well, how hard could that be?” 

 

\-- 

 

After the end of the game, when the Sharks win and the whole house celebrates with a round of drinks, Martin suggests they partake in a game of their own.  

“Just like when you boys were young,” he says, “Except this time we’ll have some good players, right Hal?” 

The comment causes an eruption of protests from the other brothers. Jim arguing that he was only five the last game they played, and Jim reminding the family how bad of a sport Hal always used to be. But they all follow their father out to the backyard, with their respective spouses and children in tow. Hal grabs his old football from the closet, and calls team captain before anyone else can think to do it themselves. 

“And dad can be the other captain,” he says. 

Jack crosses his arms, “How about mom is one and dad is the other.” 

“Oh no, count me out,” their mother says, taking a seat with Jane at the patio table. Sue joins her as well, placing their drinks down at the table. 

“Me too, I’m out.” She adds, and Helen takes her side, settling in with her drawing pad. 

Hal shrugs, and turns back to his unimpressed brother, “Guess it’s me and dad then.” 

“Well, seeing as I’m a captain, and since you called them," his father cuts in, making his way through the collection of players, “I’ll choose the teams.” 

Then he hangs an arm around Barry’s shoulders, “Starting with this guy on mine. Gotta have a good running back.” 

Hal frowns, and ignores the smirks coming from his brothers, “That’s not how that works!” 

But his father ignores him, calling out names and splitting the group into the teams, with Barry, Jim, and Jason on his own, and Jack, Jan and Howie on Hal’s. Having Jack on his team makes Hal fume a bit more, knowing the arguments they’ll likely get into when trying to make the plays, but he’s glad to have Jan instead of Jim. Five or older, that kid never learned how to catch properly.  

And while he was disappointed at first not to have Barry on his team, to be able to set the man up as quarterback while he played running back so he could stare at his ass, he’s fine with being able to tease him mercilessly as Barry tries to play a sport he’s only ever watched before.  

“Alright, no powers, babe,” he says, making a show of shoving the ring into his pocket, and ensuring they’ll all be able to catch his boyfriend, “Who’s got a coin?” 

They begin the game, Hal’s team winning the coin toss. Him and Jack argue about whether they should play from one side of the yard or the other, for long enough that when they finally decide they’ll be kicking off first, and from where, Barry and Jim are swinging a giggling Jason back and forth by his arms and legs, and Martin is goading them to toss him into a pile of leaves. And Jan is over with the other women, chatting with them through the railing of the back deck. 

Eventually, they get everyone back together and playing. Hal’s team gets an advantage from the coin toss and the fact that the yard isn’t that large. It also helps that the younger boys aren’t too sure how to play, and without his powers, Barry is pretty slow. A fact that Hal rubs in his father’s face.  

“You gonna let him talk about you like that?” Martin asks Barry.  

Barry only shrugs, “It’s hard to get him to stop talking about me like that.” 

From the deck, Jessica scolds Hal with a simple ‘Harold’, to which Hal argues that Barry is only joking.  

“Is he though?” Jim wonders rhetorically, as they all return to the line. Hal picks some grass and throws it in his brother’s face and almost starts a slap fight before Jack is able to get them focused again.  The ball is hiked to Hal, and he searches for Howie to toss it to, while his other teammates try to stop Martin and Jim. It’s too late, though and he swears Barry used some of his powers because the other man plows into him, bringing them both to the ground in a rough tackle. It almost knocks the wind from him, and he ends up dropping the ball. 

“Foul!” he shouts, moving to wrestle the other man off of him, “It’s touch football, jackass!” 

But Barry is hard to move, and they end up fighting back and forth for a few minutes until his boyfriend lets up, and helps him to stand again. 

“I say we allow it,” Martin comments jokingly, “To make up for your attitude.” 

“I second that,” Jim adds, and Jason thirds it, though likely only because he wants their team to win more than keeping things fair. Hal shakes his head. 

“I don’t have an attitude,” he argues, “I’m just trying to keep the game fair.” 

He feels hands at his back, brushing off the grass, Barry’s voice sounds in his ear, just quietly, “Wow, Hal being fair. Never thought I’d see the day.” 

Hal turns to him with a glare, to find the other man giving him a cheeky grin, and his expression melts into something softer. Barry rests his hands over Hal’s hips and places a kiss on his cheek, successfully distracting him from another argument so they can continue to play. 

But before they’re able to start, Sue comes out to let them know dinner is ready and waiting to be put on the table. The two small boys rush inside, followed by their elders. Serving plates and given to each of them to bring to the table, and Martin grabs a few beers and a bottle of wine. The kids are served, then the rest of the family, Jessica piling more onto Barry’s plate when he only takes a modest serving.  

“You did all that running earlier, and then waited so patiently for dinner,” she comments, “Take as much as you want sweetheart, I made plenty.” 

Hal rubs at the other man’s leg, giving him a smile when he looks over, and grabs another slice of turkey to add to Barry’s plate as well.  

Dinner is a social affair. The Jordan’s reminiscing of past holidays, of broken bones and daredevil stunts from their childhood. They talk about grandparents, and their wives and Barry join in with their own stories. The children yell and laugh at their table, Howie takes his time to help Jane eat, and Helen lets them in on what she’s been drawing all day. It’s warm, and light, and Hal feels so comfortable in his own skin, so happy he could cry. But the happiness it cut suddenly by a pang in his chest. An uncomfortable sadness that settles in the back of his mind. He shakes it off when Jim clinks his knife against his glass and clears his throat. The table hushes and he smiles slightly. 

“Uh, I have an announcement,” he begins, “Well, Sue and I have an announcement.” 

There’s a stifled gasp from Jessica, and Jim catches her eye, biting his lip, “Yeah, we’re having another baby.” 

Hal let’s out a whoop of congratulations, and his younger brother dips his head bashfully as Sue grins. Their father claps the young man’s shoulder and Helen loudly comments that she hopes it’s another girl, which makes Howie protest that it’ll be a boy and he knows it. Jessica tears up, despite this being her fifth grandchild, and there’s a round of hugs and more congratulations.  

When they’re all seated, and questions of names and due dates have passed, Jack catches Hal’s eye and gives him a mischievous grin, “Well, Jim and I have done our part, Hal. Your turn.” 

Hal’s heart speeds up, and his arms grow tingly as his palms start to sweat. He doesn’t look at Barry because it’s just not a good idea right now, but he feels the other man still next to him as well. The table hushes a bit, the other occupants focusing on eating through the conversation. All except Martin, who gazes knowingly at his middle son. Not a twinge of disappointment in his eyes, just understanding. There’s a twist to his lips that’s unreadable, but it’s not angry, or sad. Hal can’t read him. That feeling of grief prods at his mind again. 

His father speaks after a moment, scooping mashed potatoes onto his fork, “We’re still waiting on Barry to make an honest man of him first.” 

He looks up then, past Hal to the man next to him, and there’s a small noise that makes Hal finally turn to meet his boyfriend’s eyes. Barry’s blushing furiously, his finger tapping quickly against his fork as he swallows. Their eyes meet, and Hal’s breath catches. Barry watches him, eyes wide, lips parted slightly, before his face relaxes. A hint of sadness in the quirk of his lips. 

“It’s not up to me anymore,” he says simply. He holds Hal’s gaze instead of returning it to Martin. The dryness in Hal’s throat makes it hard to swallow. He’s thrilled and scared all at once.  

 

\--- 

 

After more attempts at removing the creature, this time with words and reassurances muttered, and whispered, and screamed at Hal, Superman makes his appearance. He comes in the same door Bruce and Diana did, floating through and over to the group. Once he sees the state of his green comrade, he joins them in their efforts. He replaces Barry’s hands over Hal’s shoulders and speaks to him, authoritatively.  

“Hal, it’s Superman—Clark. Your friend.” He states, “You need to wake up. Your dream is not real. As much as you want it to be real, it’s not. You need to wake up, Hal.” 

He huffs, shaking his head as if he knows his attempt is futile, “It isn’t real.” 

The group waits, watching Hal’s features for any sign of awareness, but there’s nothing. However, Barry notes the vines that were once shuddering and wriggling consistently, are less active than before. He files it away at the moment, retaking his seat next to his friend when Clark moves to stand up. Dinah sits next to him, placing a comforting hand over his back, rubbing soothingly. He pats her thigh in returned comfort. 

“Clark,” she says after a moment, looking up to him, “What are we dealing with here?” 

The Kryptonian stands tall and silent, arms crossed over his chest, for a few seconds, gazing sternly over their friend as he thinks of his next words.  

“When I was under the Black Mercy’s... _spell,_  I was...” he pauses, lips pursing, “I was on Krypton. It was never destroyed. I had a wife, a son. I lived on a farm, my parents were still alive. There were even Kryptonian composites of my Earth parents. It was—it was everything I could ever want.” 

He stops talking then, let’s the words settle over the group. Oliver and Barry train their gaze on Hal, thoughts of his past, his present, running through their minds. His tragedies and heartbreaks. Dinah’s hand curls into the fabric of Barry’s suit. In a second, Oliver grabs his bow and an arrow, movements jerky and aggressive as he steps back. Almost immediately knowing what he’ll do, Dinah stands and walks over. The archer draws his arrow and aims it at the creature.  

“What are you doing?!” Barry shouts, speeding to stand between the other man and Hal, “Are you insane?!” 

“Oliver!” Dinah adds, “Don’t you even dare!” 

Oliver holds the bow for a few more minutes, hands trembling. He chokes almost inaudibly, then drops his weapon with a swear. He turns away, and takes a few steps before apologizing.  

“There has to be a way to get it off of him,” he says, “We can’t just waste time talking to him.” 

Dinah sighs, turning to Diana, “What if I try my cry? Maybe it can block it’s psychic hold long enough for us to pull it off.” 

The idea brings another to Barry’s mind, “Or I could vibrate it at a frequency that could separate it from him.” 

Diana hums, considering both ideas, but Bruce cuts in before they can decide what to do. 

“Severing the psychic connection abruptly may cause damage to Hal’s psyche,” he states, “We can’t risk another emotional break like that from him.” 

Oliver catches Barry’s eyes at the comment, both of them frowning. 

“You mean we can’t risk the emotional and mental damage it could cause him,” Oliver corrects him, voice low and threatening. Bruce doesn’t respond, but Oliver has enough mind to keep to himself, opting instead to walk out of the room. The tension that follows could be cut with a knife. After a moment, Dinah goes after him. Diana and Clark come together to discuss options, and Bruce also walks away, contacting Oracle for more information. 

Which leaves Barry with Hal. He takes his spot next to him again, hand over the man’s cheek, thumb brushing over the line of his cheekbone. There’s a knot forming in his throat that he’s unable to swallow. He leans down, pressing his forehead to his friend’s, and speaks to him. Repeating the words over and over. 

“It’s not real, Hal. Please wake up.” 

 

\---- 

 

Hal is able to calm himself eventually, and their dinner continues fairly uneventfully, most of the attention still focused on Sue and Jim and their new addition. Afterwards, they all head back to the living room. The children take up a spot on the floor, and Helen decides to finally show them her work, which ends up being not cats or unicorns, but an amalgamation of both. She hands it to Jim to put up in the baby’s room, still maintaining that it will be a girl and he gives her a hug.  

They discuss their plans for the upcoming holidays, deciding that this year the families will come for a few nights during Hanukah there, and they can spend Christmas with their respective spouses’ families. And later, Martin calls Barry into the kitchen to help cut and serve the pies he made.  

It’s strange, Hal remembers his mother being the one to take care of all the food on holidays. Making sure everyone was given what they want and made sure they were fed enough. So, his heart picks up, and that feeling of grief and anxiety grows again. He can’t focus on the conversation around him, and excuses himself to go to the bathroom. When he passes the kitchen entrance, he pauses. His father is chuckling, and he can hear the muted clanging of utensils on plates.  

He peeks in, seeing Barry working on the pies, and his father leaning back onto the counter, watching him work. It’s an image that doesn’t sit right in his head, them both in the same room. Both speaking to each other and acknowledging the other. His father patting Barry on the shoulder as the other man lifts too many plates in his hands.  

“I appreciate your patience with him, son.” 

Hal’s breathing deepens, and he rushes to leave and go to the bathroom, where he splashes water on his face. He looks in the mirror, and it’s him staring back. His brown eyes, and brown hair. His jaw and nose and eyelashes. His scars and tongue and the small divots in his earlobes from when he thought pierced ears would be a good idea. He calms himself, and nods. 

When he returns, there’s a plate of apple pie with a scoop of ice cream waiting for him on the coffee table. Barry turns to him and smiles, assuring him that he mixed cinnamon into his ice cream as he likes, and causing an intake of breath from Jessica as she remembers that little quirk about her son from his youth. Even though she always knows that, she always does it for him, doesn’t she? 

It’s harder for him to relax for the rest of the night. Especially when he says goodbye to his brother Jack, who gives him a big, crushing hug. And Sue, who’s just protruding belly presses into his when they hug, telling of a third child. When he and Barry make their way out, and the door closes on his smiling parents. He catches a glimpse of their younger selves. His dad’s hair dark, and the lines of his mother’s eyes softening. Voices fading behind the wood.  

“You good to get home?” Barry asks, clear in his ears. Hal turns to him, and his hair is just as blond, his eyes just as blue. Smile tired, but comforting and familiar as ever. Hal shakes his head, not feeling like he can fly them right now. Feeling too off in his footing, too dizzy. But Barry is okay with that, leading them both down the street until they can find a private spot for him to zoom them off to their apartment.  

 It’s another unfamiliar thing to him. This large space with dog hair over the floors, and a pile of Itty’s babies asleep in the corner. He walks around slowly, hears Barry speeding around to wash and put away the pie dishes, and cracking open their leftovers to snack on a few pieces of turkey. It makes Hal chuckle when he turns to see him shoving the pieces into his mouth, and giving one to the dog as his boyfriend tells him he’s taking it out for a walk.  

In the time that Barry is gone, Hal tours around their place, looking at and through everything. He spends considerable time at every photo he comes across. Him and Carol at the bar sharing drinks with Jillian. Iris and Barry with their coffees at Wally’s middle school graduation. The multitudes of him and his brothers, and him and his parents. The ones of Barry and  _his_  parents. Barry with his college diploma with his proud mother and father at his sides.  

One, however, catches his attention, and he has a hard time looking away. His father, in his jet before a flight. He’s young, Hal can tell even through the helmet and flight suit. More so because he himself is sitting in his father’s lap. Eleven years old, grinning and so excited to see his father fly. His breath catches and he can’t stop staring at it.  

“.. _Hal_ ” 

He gasps and looks around himself, but there’s no one else there. Barry's not back yet. Why isn’t he back yet? It’s so dark out. 

“Hal.”  

It’s behind him this time. Barry’s there, staring up at him. Where’s the dog? 

“Barry, something’s wrong.” he says, his voice sounding too quiet and far away. 

“Yes, Hal! You’re right!” Barry replies, urgently but his face is calm, “There’s something wrong.” 

“Wh-what’s going on?” Hal asks, verging on hysterics. Barry’s fading from his vision. He reaches out, but he can’t touch. 

“This isn’t real Hal!” Barry shouts at him, “It’s not real! Wake up, please!” 

“Barry?!” Hal cries, “Barry don’t--please, don’t leave! Don’t leave me!” 

But Barry is fading. Everything is fading and there’s a light, red and buzzing, coming towards him quickly. It’s blinding and everything is so  _loud_ \-- 

 

\--- 

 

Diana calls out to the couple in the other room when they hear Hal speaking directly to Barry. They rush in as quickly as possible, but Barry pays them no mind, too focused on his task. 

“Wh—wht’s goin’ on?” the prone man mumbles. Barry grasps at his shoulders, shouts to him. 

“This isn’t real, Hal!” he cries, shaking the man, “It’s not real! Wake up, please!” 

His voice cracks on the last word. Hal becomes less and less stable, fingers and feet jerking. Face and body contorting in what looks like pain.  

“B’rry?” he mutters, voice getting clearer as he continues, “Barry, don’t—please don’t leave me! Don’t leave—!” 

In the commotion, Diana and Clark have readied themselves at the Black Mercy, tugging at it as hard as they can as Hal comes out of its psychic grip. In a second, they’re able to pull it off and throw it down to the floor. Bruce calls to Dinah to subdue it, which she does with her cry, as Superman hits it with his heat vision. When they’re done, all that’s left is a blackened husk. 

Barry turns back to his friend, who is now awake and looking almost worse than he did with the life-sucking creature attached to him. He’s covered in sweat and the blood that oozes from where the Mercy’s claws dug into him. Tears streak down his cheeks as he gasps for air, and his eyes search wildly around the room. When they land on Barry, he reaches out and clutches at the man’s arms in a bruising grip. Barry holds him just as tightly. 

“Hal, you’re okay.” He says to him, “It wasn’t real. You’re back now.” 

But Hal just gapes at him, still huffing. The cogs are turning in his head, Barry can tell. He’s remembering, or at least trying to remember, what happened. And when he does, his mouth clamps shut in a frown, gaze darting away.  

“You’re alright, Hal.” Dinah soothes, but it doesn’t help. A choking sound escapes him as he pushes Barry away from him and stands shakily. The group watches, half reaching to help him but he backs away. He’s still huffing breaths, but this time they’re more on the side of hysterical.  

“Hal, it’s okay—” Clark speaks, but it’s too late. The man lights himself up and takes off, leaving the group behind. They stand in silence, Barry finally picking himself up from the floor. He looks to the window Hal left through, wondering what he should do. There’s a hand on his shoulder. He turns to see Dinah, with Oliver just over her shoulder.  

“You should follow him,” she says, deciding his next move for him. Oliver agrees with a nod, and it’s all it takes for Barry to take off. At first, he’s unsure where to go, but there’s one place he always checks first, and he runs towards it.

Once he enters Coast City, he takes the highway through to the west side of the city, toward the beach, and veers to the right. A small building enters his vision, white with red and yellow accents. The large arrow on the sign seems to guide him to the faint green glow he sees on the roof. Hesitation gets the better of Barry and he stops before he even sets foot in the parking lot. The employees inside notice his bright lightning and give him a wave that he half returns. One of the girls points up, likely to tell him Green Lantern is there, and he nods.  

Using the momentum of his speed, he climbs the wall of the building and speeds to the unoccupied, rickety lawn chair beside his friend. It creaks under the sudden weight, and he jerks to keep it from collapsing. The laughter that usually follows doesn’t this time, Hal keeping his eyes forward and his mouth shut. Barry glances at the untouched tray of fries and burgers sitting at Hal’s side, then back to his face.  

“I guess they saw us on the news, huh?” he comments lightly, gauging Hal’s expression. It flounders for a moment, his breath catching audibly. The arms of his own chair squeak under the crushing grip from his fingers. Then he nods. 

“Yeah, I guess,” he rasps, and clears his throat. 

Barry frowns and leans forward in his seat, “Hal, tell me what you saw.” 

But Hal shakes his head, lips twisting harshly, “You already know what I saw.” 

“I--” Barry starts, then sighs, knowing he can’t lie here, “I know that the Black Mercy shows you a vision. Shows you—something you want.” 

The chuckle that Hal lets out is harsh, more of a scoff than anything, “Yeah, that’s putting it lightly.” 

Barry doesn’t respond. His eyes search Hal’s face. The other man looks wrecked, cheeks still stained with tear tracks, his uniform covered in soot and blood. His hair is an awful, sweaty mess. The expression on his face is almost blank, and hard to read through his mask. The only tell is the movement of his jaw, showing his determination to keep from crying again. 

“Hal,” Barry says, just above a whisper, “Tell me.” 

Their eyes meet for a moment, then Hal clears his throat again and sits up, “My parents were alive. Jack was, too. We were a family again. It—it was Thanksgiving, and everyone was there. Jack, and Jim, Sue and Jan. Jack had two kids. Jim was having a third. My mom was so excited.” 

He sucks in a breath, and gives a short laugh at a false memory. Then his expression grows serious. 

“My dad was just like I remember him. Gave me so much attention, but still kept things fair for my brothers. He was  _old_ , though he never had the chance to be, but it was so real.” 

Then he’s silent. Barry waits - gives him time to continue if he wants to, but he doesn’t, so Barry helps him along.  

“I was there.” 

Hal stills, after a moment he turns to meet Barry’s gaze, and the guilt in his expression can be read through the mask, “Yeah.” 

Barry holds his eyes as long as he can, pieces of a long and confusing and aching puzzle finally coming together to reveal its picture. To reveal the truth they both knew, but pushed down in fear of what it could do to them. 

“I’m sorry,” Barry says, much to Hal’s confusion.  

“It’s not your fault.” 

He shakes his head, “I’m sorry I can’t give you everything you want.” 

Then he reaches out, and takes Hal’s hand, “I’m sorry I can only give you this.” 

Hal’s eyes drop to their clasped hands. He stares at them for a few seconds before his hand is gripping to Barry’s like a lifeline. He sighs in relief, brings them to his cheek. Then he chokes, new tears coming from under the mask. Barry is out of his chair in a microsecond, kneeling in front of the other man as he breaks down. He brings him in to lean on his shoulder, lets him grip into the fabric of his suit and pull. His sobs are quiet. Ones that come from a reminder of tragedies long ago dealt with, ones from scars reopened. The ones that Barry is all too familiar with, from lonely nights after prison visits.  

After a while, the sobs subside. Hal is able to pull himself back, but keeps their foreheads pressed together. The mask dissolves, brown eyes meeting blue. He leans forward and presses their lips together desperately. Barry lets him guide the kiss, lets him prolong it as much as he needs to, even though their lips are covered in tears, and dirt, and a bit of snot. When they pull apart, they sit and breath together for what feels like forever before Barry speaks again. 

“Did he like me?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. 

Hal nods, lips quirking in a sad smile, “Yeah. He loved you.” 

Barry smiles too, genuinely, though he knows it was only a dream, “Good.”


End file.
